Message-ID: <6311eli$9712121555@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: versutiae@aol.com (Versutiae) Subject: REPOST: "Adrienne à la Mode" (M/F) by Cynthia Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19971210205500.PAA03621@ladder01.news.aol.com> "Adrienne à la Mode" by Cynthia Versutiae@aol.com * Archived exclusively at http://www.slowhand.com/ Adrienne surveyed the wreckage of dinner with a satisfied smile and tipped the glass to her lips again. "A lovely trap," she thought, bubbles dancing down her throat. She righted the glass and held it before her face, considering her husband over the rim. The champagne was doing what it did best, loosening mental shirt buttons and splitting emotional zippers. Even with stress fizzing away, he was a still little manic, a little nervous. Her eyes were to blame; they were burning the clothes from his body one layer at a time. Tim had been home little more than an hour, and already the tension between them was dangerous. For the last twenty minutes, she had watched him jabber excitedly about work while he devoured her coq au vin. She only hoped she was next. Adrienne ran her hand through the lazy waves of her short, black hair and set down her glass. A sleeveless, black dress hugged her body, tracing every decadent curve. While not her usual fare, it was fun to wear when he most needed distracting. She wiggled her behind, the dress a little too familiar there. The constant feel of being groped aroused her, thinning her patience. Random spokes of hair hung over her blue-green eyes. She brushed them aside, leaving no mystery as to the nature of her stare. Tim kept talking, avoiding the trap of her eyes. Her thick, arching eyebrows were her deadly lures. They made her look constantly and unnervingly inquisitive. Even at her most relaxed, even when asleep, she seemed to be prying apart secrets. If that was not enough, she could make every glance, every gesture, every breath erotic. It just came naturally to her. It was no wonder her classes had nearly perfect attendance rates. Adrienne had thrown together the candles, jazz and dinner in the hope of luring him away from the week, if only for a few minutes. So many things vied for her attention, but this night was invaluable, not to be squandered. A mountain of papers and student poetry loomed around the corner, but she had no intention of scaling it until morning. Her literary ropes and pitons were packed up for the night. That he could not let go of work himself both challenged and aroused her. He had come hundreds of miles to sit before her and was still out of reach. He regaled her with yet another anecdote from his business trip to Toledo, gesturing absently with his spoon, dotting his tie with drips of vanilla ice cream. She laughed but nodded along with his story. She didn't care much about what went on in Toledo, but she was excited to see him again, to have more than five uninterrupted minutes with him. His unease was peculiar. His voice was like a feather waggling nervously against her ears, teasing out her laughter despite her attempts to look interested. He was still wearing his blazer, and that annoyed her a little. It was like a shell he wore, an armored chunk of that dull office world that swallowed him up day to day. It was something out of which he had to be coaxed. He tugged at his collar and wetted his throat before continuing. He looked like a man in a soured job interview. Although she knew she was to blame, she did not think she looked that predatory. However, she loved that she could still make him uneasy with a glance. Despite the prelude that the dinner really was--a neon arrow blinking at her body--he had to be lured from the cold order of work to the seething chaos of her eyes. The climate change was a bit daunting. His relentless chatter was cathartic for him, a means by which he could slowly peel away the layers of the work week. She knew that he wanted her and that his stress held him in check. He had trouble letting go; work always had its claws in him. She hated that jacket. "Contents under pressure" should have been stenciled across it. He kept talking, sparing almost no detail. Adrienne bit her lip. Devious thoughts simmered in her mind. She sipped from her glass and laid it before her. Her hands vanished beneath the table. She wriggled in her seat, all the while wearing her "don't worry--I'm listening" face. Brow furrowed, he continued sketching out proposals and opportunities and market shares, all of the prattle in which he swore he could never take an interest. Settled once again in her chair, Adrienne sighed, hands hidden, eyebrows raised in a "my, that is interesting" pose. She let him talk for a while and then casually laid her panties next to her salad fork. Tim stopped dead in mid-sentence, his words piling up behind him like derailed train cars. A devilish smirk crawled toward her ear. As he sat there blinking, speechless for the first time since coming home, she let her quiet magic work on him. Silence hovered over the table. Adrienne could almost hear the flames sucking away at the candles. Her nipples pushed hard against the cotton of her dress. She wanted so much to touch them. She looked down at her neglected dessert. Raspberries lounged on the little dune of ice cream and waded in the shallow, white sea surrounding it. She steeped the tip of her middle finger in the melted portion, drawing it out slowly. From the short, unpolished nail to the first knuckle, a glob of vanilla coated her fingertip. She stared into him as her hand descended out of his sight and into her lap. A shiver roamed her body, pinching her thick lips into a pout and flaring her eyes. She blew a single, breathy moan across the table at him. Smiling wickedly, one eyebrow cocked, she lifted her hand into the candlelight. The finger was clean. Held tight in the clench of his face, his slate eyes looked about to shatter. He was completely dazed. Watching the muscles in his neck tense, the wordless moving of his mouth, Adrienne worried she had finally taken teasing to a lethal level and given him a heart attack. His mouth suddenly tilted in the randiest smirk she had ever seen. Full of wanting, his eyes raked over her body. She was almost afraid of what she had awoken. Tim rose and chuckled at himself. He shrugged off his jacket and kicked it away. Adrienne grinned, overjoyed to see him finally shed that workaday skin. His whole demeanor changed. He was alive again but shaky, a drowned man resuscitated. He stalked around the table, stepping peculiarly, as though his pockets were filled with needles. She laughed when she realized it was due to the rigid bulge in his pants. His own laughter died when he finally saw what the table had hidden. Her dress was tugged up over her hips, bunched around her waist, the smooth wood of the seat cool against her bottom. Her long, pale legs arched down to black, flat-soled shoes, which she tapped anxiously on the hardwood floor. He leaned over her, challenging her eyes. When he seemed about to speak, to apologize for neglecting her, she stopped him, her fingers lighting on his lips. "Such a busy mouth," she said, her first words in half an hour. The vestige of a childhood in Belgium still lingered in her voice, chasing it with a subtle and provocative accent. Despite a lifetime in America, she always had a foreign mystique. "Put it to good use." She carefully straightened his tie and licked her lips, her eyes heavily-lidded. Tim knew her serious-business look. "Get to work." Adrienne scooted her chair away from the table. Tim knelt before her and leaned in close, the dark triangle of curls pointing the way. He hummed wickedly when he realized her clitoris, full and inviting, was dabbed with vanilla. Beneath the sweet smell, the scent of her teased him, making him ache. Hands on her thighs, he pushed her legs apart and wrapped his lips around her clitoris, sucking gently, rhythmically. Adrienne instantly moaned away all of her breath. Clutching the chair, she braced herself for his tongue. When she felt it lash back and forth behind his lips, licking away the ice cream, air crashed back into her lungs with a gasp. He sucked the little nub harder, trying to pull her entire body into his mouth. In moments, the vanilla succumbed to her strong, gingery taste, and Tim tugged harder at her, adoring it. Adrienne stamped her feet and moaned at the ceiling. She imagined herself burning from the inside out. She squinted down at him, tousling his hair with shaky hands. He sucked relentlessly, his nose burrowed into her black curls, his sharp breaths tickling through them. His eyes smiled up at her. Leaving her with one last promissory kiss, Tim leaned back to catch his breath. His chin had a telltale shine. Adrienne leered drunkenly at him, amazed. Unable to take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock, stroking it anxiously. She loved watching him do that, flattered that the taste of her could make him so hard, so desperate for touch. Hungry herself, she strummed her clitoris with her long fingers, moaning along with him. For several minutes, they watched each other pleasure themselves. Close to the edge, Tim stopped. They shared an old, familiar laugh when she found it hard to take her own hand away. The laughter felt as good as anything else. Raising an eyebrow, Tim laid his hand on the seat between her legs, palm up. She sighed decadently, anticipating what he was about to do. She rose just a few inches off the chair and waited. When Tim's middle finger stood up straight, she lowered herself onto it, so wet she felt little more than an erotic tickle as it entered. Knowing that he wanted to tease out the moment and torture her, she scowled at him. In an instant, his long finger was thrumming inside her, rapidly waggling back and forth. Adrienne sang to the ceiling again, her voice vibrating at his finger's tempo. Sharp pleasure squeezed her eyes shut. She brushed and tugged her nipples through her dress. They were tall and achingly sensitive, stirring a delicious sting into her pleasure. Tim grinned up at her, his finger trilling without pause. A heavy, crackling warmth spread through her body, stretching all the way to her toes. Nearing the edge, Adrienne ground her ass against the seat, pushing him as deep as she could. Although his arm was beginning to ache, Tim moved faster. He was rewarded with a high, throaty moan. Her hips trembled, and fire blossomed between her legs. Her hands abruptly went to the seat, latching tightly. She whimpered, teetering on the brink, and moaned like a siren as she tumbled into orgasm. Adrienne thrashed against the back of the chair, her nerves burning up. Completely out of control, deep in the throes, she gyrated upon the seat. Within a few moments, her body seized up one last time before collapsing with a sigh. Tim smiled and moved his hand out from under her, counting himself lucky his finger was not broken. She grinned back at him, her eyes promising to return the favor threefold. She was impressed; whenever she seemed to have caught her breath, it danced out of her reach again. "It's your turn in the chair," she whispered, standing and tugging her dress back into place. They exchanged positions. Tim's cock stood tall and rigid from his lap. Adrienne smirked at it and laid his hands on the sides of the seat. "You'd better hold on tight," she said. >From just a breath away, she stared at his cock, watching it hunger. She tried to imagine what it felt like to be so hard, so confined. It amazed her. Over a week's worth of tension coiled in one place. She knew he got so wrapped up in work on his trips that he didn't masturbate. She had gotten him to do it over the phone a few times but only with a lot of provocation. Unless she was there to inspire him directly, desire was just something that silently knotted him up, making him cranky. Adrienne masturbated often, finding more inspiration than she could handle during the course of a day. Poetry was not the only product of her sensual nature. Textures, tastes and sounds swirled around her daily, stirring her up inside until she had to do something about it. She wished it came half as naturally to him. His cock twitched, ticking away his pulse. She wondered if she even needed to touch him, if she could simply make him come with her voice. "That might be fun to try sometime," she thought. She splayed her left hand on his pelvis, and he winced. The muscles beneath her hand were strained taut. It was as though his cock was pulling away from his body. Adrienne leered up at him, her eyebrows daring him to beg. "Ade," he whispered. "Please." She wrapped her right hand around him and clenched her fingers. Tim groaned, and his entire body stretched toward her hand. He was iron in her grasp. A telltale glisten appeared on the tip, warning of the deluge to come. "He'll be lucky to survive thirty seconds," she thought, a little disappointed but thoroughly flattered. She laid a feather of a kiss upon the very end, savoring that first anxious drop. She wondered why it was so different from the horrible-tasting rush ahead. No matter how he pleaded, she would not do that again, would not take that in her mouth. She had forever closed the doors on the argument by saying, "You try it, and then we'll talk." Adrienne stroked him slowly: up and down, up and down. She rotated her hand a little so that her fingers slithered around him with every rise and fall. Tim lay back with his eyes closed, moans rising like smoke from his open mouth. Every time her hand moved, his body shook as though suffering tiny shocks. Just when he seemed to be building up for release, she let go of him, laying her right hand next to her left on his stomach. She waited. Tim cracked an eye and smiled meekly at her. Her thick lips stretched out in the most remarkable grin. Without warning, her mouth was around him, engulfing him, taking him in all the way to the base. Back arched, toes curled, Tim howled at the ceiling. Adrienne hummed around him, pleased with herself. She clenched her lips around him and drew away from him slowly, inch by inch. When only the tip of him was in her mouth, she gave it a hard suck. Tim groaned, thrusting up at her, trying to push himself farther into her mouth. She held on hard with her mouth, refusing to allow him deeper, her head bobbing along with his hips. When he stopped, she took him all the way in again. This time she held him there, sucking on him like a straw, luxuriating in his moans. He quivered in her mouth. She loved the sensation. She loved him. Still surrounding him utterly, she tickled the base of his cock with her tongue. He laughed achingly, prying open his eyes. She was staring at him-- into him--through her sharp, black bangs. Her eyes reflected everything from confidence to cruelty to love. She raised a bushy eyebrow like a warning flag. He clutched onto the seat. Adrienne suddenly bobbed her head, noisily sucking at him. She moved so quickly, his nerves couldn't keep up with the sensations. She held the very tip of him between her lips one moment and tickled her chin against his balls the next. He felt as though she was literally sucking the energy from his body. He throbbed against her tongue, wringing up harder than before. Abruptly, he was out of her mouth, quivering in front of her. She sighed heavily, catching her breath, and took his cock, warm and wet, tightly in hand. She jerked hard, emulating the movement of her mouth. Tim stuttered, howling his way over the edge. She loved this moment: when the sluice gates opened and all the stress and tension in him rushed out. He pulsed wildly, but she held on, yanking his orgasm from him. He seized up and released, draping a long, white stripe through her hair. Startled, she laughed and glanced up at her hair in mock annoyance. She would be ready for the next burst. She jerked harder, shaking the come out of him. Spurt after spurt leapt from him, covering her hands and his lap. She laughed in amazement. A week's worth of stress had poured from him... and made rather a mess. When his breath returned, she let go of him, and he slouched in the chair. She snatched her napkin from the table and dabbed at her hair, laughing. Humming to herself, she wiped her glistening hands and pitched the spent napkin aside. She grabbed her panties and draped them around his drooping cock. She worked the cotton against his skin, delighting in the exhausted, "please--no more" grunts and groans her touch provoked. She carefully cleaned him up, soaking her panties with his strange, seashore scent. She dropped them and climbed to her feet, leaning over to kiss him. The spice of her was on his lips, and she adored it, wishing his come tasted more like that and less like insecticide. "Thirsty?" she asked, drawing away from him. Tim nodded blearily. She stretched and walked to the end of the table, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. She picked up the champagne bottle and sauntered back toward him, her smirk leading the way. Grace suddenly abandoned her as she slipped on her wilted panties and toppled into his lap. The bottle wobbled at the foot of the chair, coming to a rest upright, not a drop spilled. They both burst into laughter, shaking against each other in the candlelight. As the giggles began to wane, he patted her affectionately on the behind, signaling for her to get up. Adrienne went quiet. "Spank me," she said, arching her back to look him in the eye. He chuckled, but the champagne veil had lifted for the moment. She was serious. "What?" She had him off-balance again... and delighted in it. She lowered her head and stared at him through the black veil of her bangs. She steeped her voice in the warmest of her fantasies and blew it at him like smoke. "Spank me." "Ade. Come on. It's the champagne talking," he said, uncertain. "You don't want me to do that." However, he knew she was still in charge, still lucid, and that made him all the more nervous. The champagne might have tickled her voice and her skin, but her eyes were still clear and incisive. She never ceased to amaze him. Here was this accomplished poet, this respected professor, asking him to spank her. From the lofty to the lusty, there was nothing she could not do. Her range was unnerving. She knew she would have to provoke him again. He always slipped back a little after he came, his driven passion fading into drowsy pensiveness. Still holding his eye, she slowly pulled back the hem of her dress, baring her voluptuous behind to the candlelight. She ran her hand adoringly over the curves, smiling disarmingly. Her ass was a monument to decadence. She knew how he gawked at it when she was fresh out of the shower in the morning, how he loved watching it quiver when he took her from behind, grabbing and groping it at every chance. She knew its power over him. He stared numbly, savoring every curve. The tiny, X-shaped scar on her left buttock inspired a smile. As a child, she had caught herself on a barbed-wire fence while nipping grapes from a neighbor's vineyard. She told him often how the sweet taste had been worth the pain. Adrienne slowly and rhythmically clenched her behind, trying to entice him, but sensed his uncertainty. She would have to play tough to lure him into her fantasy. "You know," she said, her voice low and husky, "it's been so long since you've made love to me that I've taken to fantasizing about everyone in your office when you're out of town." He sat stark still, dumbfounded. He knew how voracious her mind was, and that worried him. Adrienne smirked. She hoped she could embellish enough to draw him. She wiggled her ass and casually lifted her glass from the table with her left hand. When she teetered on his lap, he absently clapped his hand on her thigh to steady her. She lifted the bottle from the floor and topped her glass. "Seriously?" he said, a tiny needle of hurt popping the champagne bubbles. "Seriously," she said into the glass as she sipped. Her eyes seethed. She licked a stray drop from her lips. "In my mind, I've come with each and every one of them. Several times." "Ade, don't play games..." "I had Steve take me from behind while I was draped over your desk." "Steve? My best friend? Ade, he would never..." "He would never," she confirmed. "In fact, I seem to recall him yelling, 'I can't do this to Tim's wife!' just before he came all over me, all over this naughty ass." She raised a challenging eyebrow and casually took another sip. She watched his face change, watched his emotional scales wobble up and down. Tim was clearly taken aback. His hand tensed, clenching her thigh, rising almost imperceptibly. She hummed into her glass. He frowned down at her. "Who else, Ade?" "Well, there are so many. It's hard to keep track. Throw out some names." He felt completely trapped. "Ben Rouse?" "Your boss?" she said, biting her lip and rolling her eyes across the ceiling. She smiled. "Tallish fellow? Always looks like he's just missed his train by ten seconds?" "Yes..." She smirked so hard a dimple rose on her cheek. "I sucked him in the elevator." Tim's eyes swam. Adrienne warmed up her voice some more, intensifying her accent. "We got on on the thirteenth floor, and he got off on the third." His hand rose a little more, cradling her left buttock. He could not believe she would be so shameless with her fantasies. "Well, then there's always Bob." "Bob from Accounting?!" he snapped, completely nonplused. "The Star Trek guy?! Beam-Me-Up Bob?!" "I bet he has a huge cock," she cooed. "And do you know where I want it?" She dipped two fingertips in her champagne and, leering up at him, rubbed them against her asshole in lazy circles. "Right there." A bittersweet rage boiled up through him. He smacked her sharply on the behind, making it quiver. The blow shook her whole body. The champagne sloshed in the glass. Adrienne winced for but a moment then moaned luxuriously. Instantly taking on a ruddy glow, her ass looked even prouder to him. Before she could catch her breath, his hand crashed into her again. The sensation was delicious. When her moan trailed off, she casually sipped her champagne, unimpressed, her eyebrows high and haughty. Infuriated, Tim shifted, holding her firmly in his lap, his left arm draped across the small of her back and around her hip. In rapid succession, he swatted one buttock and then the other, sending ripples through her flesh. Adrienne groaned in ecstasy, in realization of her fantasy. Relentlessly, he warmed her behind, the soft smacks echoing about the room. Despite being tricked into the role, being goaded to her whim, he was careful. Each blow was little more than a pat, just enough to give her a little, well-deserved sting but not enough to hurt. Adrienne loved it, moans hiccupping from her with every swat. Her behind blushed in the candlelight, adoring his hand. She smiled to herself when she felt his cock slowly stiffening against her belly. Moaning and laughing, she kicked her feet when he began spanking her in earnest, paddling her with his gentle hand. The blush spreading across her behind spread inside her as well, singeing her, making her very wet. When at last he stopped, she reached back and ran her hand over the warm, quivering curves. Her breaths fell heavily, and she shot him a wild, appreciative look. She had nearly come. Tim retraced the course of her hand, enjoying the heat of her skin. Adrienne moaned at the floor, her behind just tender enough to make every caress arousing to her. As his fingers glided over her, tremors rode her body, and her ass clenched invitingly. He smirked. It was his turn to surprise her. He looked up at the table. A little lump of ice cream remained in her dish, a little iceberg in a swollen, white sea. The raspberries had drowned. He dipped his fingers in the cool cream and rubbed it on her toasted behind. Adrienne cooed. The ice cream made her ass feel that much hotter. Slowly, teasingly, he covered her warm behind with vanilla, smoothing it all around her. Besides being intensely aroused, she felt cherished. She relaxed, savoring the cool strokes. Tim raked his eyes over her lovely behind while soaking his middle finger in ice cream. He smiled at the cleft between her cruelly curvaceous cheeks, his mind exploring with his eyes. When his finger was thoroughly covered and achingly cold, he pressed it into her ass. Adrienne's head flew up, and a long, throaty moan shook from her mouth. She clenched hard, which only pushed his finger deeper. The contrast of the heat on her skin and the cold inside her nearly pushed her over the edge. She loved his finger there, loved the way it sucked the heat and the pleasure from her body. Trying to bluff him, to make it seem as though she was bored, she tried to take a casual sip of champagne. Hands shaky with pleasure, she missed her mouth and popped her nose into the glass. She laughed at herself and gave in, giving voice to the deeper moans she had held back. He was harder than ever against her stomach. He moved his finger slowly, drawing out her moans. Wanting to hear more of her beautiful, husky cries, he gave her random swats with his free hand, complicating her pleasure, pushing her toward release. He was amazed with himself, amazed he had become entangled in her fantasy. He loved all this, and she knew it. She was deviously cunning when it came to getting what she wanted. She was tight around his finger. The aching cold dwindled away quickly, leaving him feeling only the quivering heat of her body. He could feel the warning shivers in her even before she cried out for him to stop. All at once, Adrienne wriggled out of his grasp and scrambled to her feet. She laid the glass on table and turned toward him. Her breathing erratic, her eyes wild, she closed his legs and straddled them, hovering over him. Her dress drooped over her thighs, and she tugged it roughly above her waist, rolling it under until it stayed in place. Startling him, she clapped her hands on the chair's high back and glared at him through a ragged veil of bangs. Her intensity unnerved him. Feeling the warmth of her brushing the tip of his cock, he shot her a look of appeal. Adrienne smiled, kissed him tenderly and reassuringly on the nose and engulfed him, her ass crashing warm and sticky into his lap. Air silently vanished from his lungs, and he sat still as pleasure loomed up over him, eclipsing everything. Adrienne, on the other hand, growled at full voice, rolling her hips, pressing harder, savoring him savagely. Absolutely driven, she pistoned upon him, repeatedly pushing herself up with her toes and letting her full weight fall hard on his lap. The chair creaked as she bounced upon him. The candles threw a strange, bobbing shadow on the wall behind them. Holding onto her waist, Tim could do little but weather her storm. Overwhelmed as he was, he could barely even make a sound. He felt utterly used... and did not mind a bit. Every impact spread a tingling sting through her ass that she adored. Desperate for more, she came down upon him harder and harder, driving him deeper than he had ever been. The chair groaned. Lightning danced throughout her body. Sliding his hands up to the sides of her breasts, Tim pushed at Adrienne's nipples with his thumbs. The fabric heightened the sensation, adding a bittersweet friction that made her back arch, her thighs twitch. She was so warm, so wet. He was so hard, so deep. They both ached from the pleasure, their faces pinched comically. They would have laughed had their eyes not been squeezed shut. Holding back as best he could, Tim waited for her, every moment fighting the urge to explode. The pressure building in him made him harder, giving her a greater sense of being filled, making her come. Adrienne's eyebrows scrunched together, the pressure bearing down heavily upon her before sweeping her away. She slammed into his lap one last time and ground down on him, clenching her behind tightly to hold him at that fantastic depth. A molten sensation seethed between her legs, pouring fire into her arms and her legs. Head back, she whimpered and moaned, singing out her ecstasy. Dragged over the edge, Tim erupted inside her. He grimaced, yelling, the release so great it almost hurt. He held her steady as pangs of pleasure knocked her body about. In moments, they were crumpled against each other, shuddering and murmuring and stroking each other's hair. As breath returned and shivers fell silent, they talked and laughed, exhausted. It was time for a shower and who knew what afterward. Still holding him inside her, Adrienne reached back and lifted her glass from the table. She sipped her champagne and smiled, trying hard to look bored. "You were kidding about my co-workers... right?" he said. She cocked an eyebrow and smirked around the lip of her glass. "Of course." * Thank you for reading! Take good care. - Cynthia -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |